


little loss of innocence

by lilybluee



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Some pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 17:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybluee/pseuds/lilybluee
Summary: “Kihyunnie, from now on, Hyunwoo here will be working with you on delivering souls," Hoseok says.





	little loss of innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: past graphic violence! some blood and gore!! a brief scene of a child getting murdered!!!  
> PLEASE, heed the warnings!!!!!!

 

There’s something unsettling about the Afterlife.

( _everything_ , Minhyuk would say, _we’re just pawns y’all, fuck the system_ )

Angels and Demons co-exist under a set of deeply implemented rules from the higher-ups. Kihyun is centuries old (centuries dead), and he’s still not used to this whole clusterfuck. His wings drag behind him, white folded plumes, halo weighting heavier on the crown of his head, Minhyuk smiling creepily at him, which means nothing good ninety percent of the time. He sees a red Demon tail, and thinks _‘minhyuk has finally reached his final form, no Angel should be that chaotic.’_

But the red Demon tail doesn’t belong to Minhyuk, and when Kihyun trudges closer and closer (they’re so heavy, his wings, his halo, his existence, it’s so heavy), he finds a sweet-faced Demon with the most beautiful set of black wings he’s seen. Ever.

“Ayo my bubblegum bitch,” Minhyuk greets him lovingly. The beautiful bastard. His wings are folded in a neat heart shape, a little sparrow perched on his halo. The sparrow tweets soft melodies.

Kihyun narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth, to snap, to nag, to wail. Hoseok startles him when he lands gracefully nearby, a befitting entrance to a high ranking Angel (it’s suddenly brighter, waterfall twinkling stars in broad daylight).

Minhyuk straightens beside him, and Kihyun does the same.

The Demon though, he’s grinning.

“Seokkie!” He calls (shoulders so wide, wings so dark, eyes fierce red).

“Nunu! I haven’t seen you in over ten months! I’ve missed you so much.”

And when they meet midway, Hoseok pulls him in a hug.

Kihyun’s eyes almost deflate in gushing blood. “What the _fuck_?” he mutters under his breath.

Minhyuk’s face looks like trouble, and it occurs to Kihyun then that his beautiful bastard of a friend knows more than he’s letting on. Before he could round on him with threats of snipping his feathers off with garden shears, Minhyuk clears the situation. “That’s Hyunwoo. They’re best friends.”

Only, that doesn’t clear much. “Dude, are you serious? Did you see his horns? That’s the highest ranking Demon I’ve seen in a while.”

Hyunwoo’s horns, a deep dark winter-night, grow in two sets on his head. They’re large at the base and extend more than ten centimeters up with a slight curve, the tips dipped in gold. Demons’ horns are usually not that big, and the realization has Kihyun almost hyperventilating. His wings flutter, agitated.

“He was asking me about you, by the way,” Minhyuk says.

Kihyun feels a whoosh in his guts. “Please, tell me I didn’t mess up somewhere.”

“Well, you did send that dude to hell for no valid reason-”

“He mass murdered high school students, he can fucking rot.”

“And that woman who died from a heart attack-”

“She boiled her cat alive, Minhyuk that is just cruel.”

“And that old man who slipped on his cane and cracked his skull open against bath tiles.”

“He’s a sick, sick fuck. He raped kids and he deserves to burn in Hell.”

“And you kicked my balls that time-”

“And you deserved every bit of it.”

Minhyuk pinches his nose, sighs heavy. The sparrow flies off. The high ranking duo are still chatting.

Kihyun sees his enormous dark wings, his smooth tan skin. His tail swishes from behind him, stabs into soil a few times. Hoseok’s own snowy wings seem bigger than usual, his gummy smile so damn bright. It’s too damn early, this was supposed to be Kihyun’s day off.

They march their way, finally, and Kihyun offhandedly thinks the front view is just as good. He doesn’t expect these next words though.

“Kihyunnie, from now on, Hyunwoo here will be working with you on delivering souls. Your former partner has… _disrespected_ some rules, so he won’t be available for some time,” Hoseok says, no longer smiling, and Kihyun shrinks under their solemn stares. His comfort is that Minhyuk seems to be in the same squirmy state, in the same heightened sensitivity.

Hoseok is millenniums old. Hyunwoo’s eyes blaze red.

And Minhyuk and he are tiny, tiny things in this fucked up system.

“I understand,” he settles on saying.

Hoseok claps. “Perfect.”

Kihyun tries not to shrink further into himself when Hyunwoo steps in front of him. His teeth flash like pearls, and Kihyun can tell it’s genuine. “Kihyun, right?”

“Ah, y-yes that’s me, Hyunwoo hyung.”

“Hyunwoo is fine. Nunu is fine too, but Hoseok is selfish and wants it for himself only,” Hyunwoo grins, but almost bites his tongue when Hoseok claps him on the back. They laugh.

Kihyun attempts a laugh, then gives up at the throat-slashing signs from Minhyuk. “You look awkward, it’s painful,” he whispers.

“Shut up, you’re not the one involved in this shit,” Kihyun whispers back.

When they finally leave, white and black plumes meddling with blue skies, Kihyun doesn’t deny himself the luxury of collapsing into Minhyuk’s side, who actually catches him and helps him fly back to his hideout.

Kihyun, in his bed, spares some thoughts to his former partner of fifty years, who sent wrongdoers to Heaven and condemned valid victims to Hell, who laughed at Kihyun once for getting himself killed in his own home when he was still alive, who abused cute Jooheon’s dimples until he drove him to tears.

Kihyun discovers he couldn’t care less.

 

 

“But why me? why me why me why me?” Kihyun repeats again and again. “There are hundreds of Demons, thousands of them. He’s my senior, he’s literally on the same scale as Hoseok, and I’m just a regular recently hired angel. Mihyuk, stop picking at my wings, we’re not chimpanzees.”

Kihyun tries to reach back and swat Minhyuk’s hand away. He earns himself a clap and he hisses.

“Stop moving, I think I spotted a black feather on you,” Minhyuk says.

Kihyun settles on a frown, swings his legs over the edge of the cliff he’s currently sitting on. They’re perched so high they can barely see the clearing down the cliff. An actual human being would’ve scrambled up and away from somewhere this high up the sky, but Kihyun is no human, and if it it’s not the halo and the wings, then it’s the light blue tattoo-like carvings on his arms and chest that give away his supernatural status.

He yelps when Minhyuk yanks on something.

“There, found it.” He comes to sit beside him, waving around a black feather. “Dude, you’re growing old.”

Black feathers growing in the midst of snowy ones is the equivalent of humans growing grey hair. He snatches the plume from Minhyuk’s hand, feels the softness of it between the pads of his fingers. “Well, at least elders are worshipped here, how old do you think Hoseokkie is?”

“A thousand? Two thousands?” Minhyuk contemplates.

“I bet he’s much older than that. How old did you say you were again?” Kihyun asks.

Another sparrow perches itself on Minhyuk’s halo, and it opens its beak to harmonize with nature. Kihyun keeps staring at the beautiful crafted patterns of its wings. Minhyuk takes some seconds to consider. “I believe I died in like, 1618, so four hundred years then?”

“A brat.”

“Shut up, you’re a toddler compared to me.”

Kihyun shrugs, his pastel pink hair fluttering among the breeze. “I died in the eighteenth century, you’re only a hundred years older.”

Time doesn’t mean much for creatures like them. A year is the equivalent of a month, and when you’re an immortal, things tend to blend together, a gruesome mesh of timestamps in Kihyun’s head.

Kihyun never asked for this, and he doesn’t know to where he should direct his frustration.

Certainly not Hoseok, because he’s-

“What history do they have together?” he asks. His eyes shift to the flower beds in their surroundings.

The mood hiccups, and the sparrow flies off. Minhyuk unfolds his wings, his gorgeous heart shaped wings, lets them wrap around Kihyun. “One got brutally killed, the other brutally killed the culprits. A vicious cycle.”

“So, what you’re saying is that they knew each other before death.”

“Exactly.”

Something forlorn and deeply morose crawls over Kihyun’s skin, pricks his flesh. It’s common, most of their Angles got robbed of their lives unfairly, and Kihyun is certainly not an exception. Sometimes, he still dreams of it, the loud unheard cries for help, his muffled mouth and blindfolded eyes, the stabbing that went on and on and on–

It wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop, and he was still alive through it all, because death never claimed him when he asked for her. His throat was torn open, and she still wouldn’t come.

His body got violated beyond repair, and she still wouldn’t come.

His fingers and tongue chopped off, his bones peeking through dismantled limbs, his heart soaring through piercing knives, again and again, the awful, awful pain in every inch of his body, he bled buckets and buckets, so much blood, litters of it, the mattress was completely soaked. His mother’s mattress it was, his stepfather’s men they were.

His stepfather sneering in his bloodied face.

And yet, she still wouldn’t come.

He died a little after his mother got to him, her face struck with horror at the tragedy in her own house. Her own son heaving his last breath.

_‘I’m so sorry Kihyunnie, I’m so sorry, so so sorry Kihyunnie, oh God baby please stay with me please, don’t go please please please-”_

Her last words to him.

Only then did death come, and he fucking resent her for it.

Kihyun wanted to rest, in Heaven, in Hell, in whatever, he wanted to lie down. This is not resting.

“Hey, you’re growing tense. Ease your muscles, they’ll cramp,” Minhyuk says. He smiles at him. His hair is as dark as a raven’s pelt, and it glows the natural way an Angel’s would. Similar to him, his exposed arms have light carvings of their own, a sky blue. Kihyun can tell he was a gorgeous young man in his short days on earth. A loud one too.

(endearing all the same)

“Let’s go meet up with Jooheon and Changkyun. They must be soaking in Heaven’s steamy doors.”

Kihyun lets Minhyuk pull him up, and together they take off the cliff.

 

 

“You’re loud,” Kihyun complains to the trio dipping in ceramic waters with floating flower petals and the unmistakable sweet smell that makes Kihyun want to gag.

“Catch me!” Minhyuk screeches, flying up in the air. He folds his wings and drops like a bomb into Jooheon and Changkyun’s outstretched arms. It doesn’t end well, and the whines and groans have Kihyun on the verge of chopping his ears off (they will grow back, they always do).

“Fuck me,” he mutters, burrows deeper in the warm silky waters. His tattoos glow stronger underwater, and he sees them changing shape, pulsing faintly against his skin.

“Why so grumpy today, Kihyunnie?” Jooheon asks. There’s a huge red spot on his forehead, and his arm is bleeding, repairing itself fast. He sees a tail, Changkyun’s, wrapping around Jooheon’s torso. Changkyun’s dark wings are smaller in comparison to Hyunwoo’s, but unearthly all the same, horns pointy, pinker than shepherd's delight. Kihyun had impaled himself with Changkyun’s horns once, a mistake on a mission to capture the errand soul of a wrongdoer. It bloody hurt, and it took forever for his hand to finally heal.

They look worried. Kihyun opens his mouth, but Minhyuk beats him to it. “He was assigned a new partner.” He’s clutching his abdomen, his wings looking rumpled, as if he just fractured his shoulder blades, and the support is no more.

“And so?” Jooheon questions. “Your former partner was an asshole anyway.” His hair is white, totally and completely, his eyes a similar color with flecks of gold. Changkyun’s eyes make Kihyun think of bleeding knuckles and bruised knees. Red, soft, masking pain.

“It’s Hyunwoo,” Kihyun says.

Their eyes widen.

“As in, the Hyunwoo himself? One of Hell’s leaders himself?” Changkyun asks in disbelief.

Kihyun nods.

“That’s –umm, a good thing, don’t you think?” Jooheon offers. “He has only ever worked with Hoseokkie before. It means you must have been good enough to catch his eye.”

Somehow, that makes things worse. Kihyun gurgles around a mouthful of water, buries deeper and deeper. His pastel hair float amongst the petals. Similar color. Similar doom. “I don’t want to be good enough. I just want to work in peace.”

They splash closer to him. Jooheon takes a side, Changkyun the other, and they nuzzle him together. Minhyuk is still fixing his wings, the idiot.

“It’s gonna be fine, I promise,” Changkyun says. “Hyunwoo hyung might be my leader, but he’s so so good, so kind, and beautiful. He’s the one who eased me into this whole mess when I got resurrected as a Demon. Don’t let appearances fool you.” His tail splashes into the water and wraps around Kihyun’s leg. He’s warmer than Jooheon, burning coals under his skin.

Kihyun sighs, but lets his gratitude be known, he’s being childish. Minhyuk finally joins the party by diving. Kihyun’s breath is wrenched out of him.

“You should stop worrying, my small bubblegum bitch.”

“Stop calling me that,” Kihyun says.

“Stop calling him that,” Jooheon says.

“Shut up dumpling cheeks.” His huge wings keep hitting them in the face. Jooheon wrestles him to the water, and they trash around like a bunch of Koï fish swarming up for treats.  

Kihyun sighs again.

Someone pads on the floor behind them. Kihyun turns his head and glimpses Heaven’s most gorgeous being (other than Hoseok, of course).

Sunmi walks closer and crouches to his level. Her smell in unlike anything he’s ever encountered before. Something like honey peach, something like chocolate cosmos with a hint of Lily of the valley (something like home).

Her partner stands behind, a petite Demon with intense red eyes and equally red hair. Seulgi, is her name. She gives him a kind smile, and Kihyun smiles back. Changkyun scrambles up from the waters, chatting with her to the side.

“Kihyun,” Sunmi says, and Heaven harmonizes with her.

She was the one who collected his soul. Kihyun remembers a coolness that had washed away the horrible, horrible pain. She had cradled his soul in her arms, and told him, _‘This is where your suffering comes to an end, I’m sorry life had been this harsh to you.’_

Kihyun closes his eyes, breathes deep. “Is something wrong?”

She smiles, her hand gently patting his hair. “Oh no, absolutely nothing is wrong. It’s just Hoseok. He summoned you to talk about regulations with your new partner.” Her eyes twinkle in different constellations. Seulgi has been her partner for as long as Kihyun could remember, quite the popular pair too. Minhyuk idolizes them to an unbearable extent.

_Can you feel the love under this beautiful night sky? Have you seen the way they look at each other? The way she held her hand? This is what true love looks like, Hyungwon could never._

Hyungwon is his partner.

Kihyun nods, and he lets her pull him up from the water. His wings drip, drip. She smiles again, kisses his forehead and vanishes. Changkyun stands alone, face grim.

“What’s wrong?” Kihyun asks.

“She scolded me, telling me I’m slacking off. Jooheon and I already delivered fifty souls, we deserve a break,” he says with a pout.

Something about his upset face makes Kihyun want to laugh until his sides start to hurt. He manages a grin, and walks to Changkyun to ruffle his hair.

Kihyun then bids them farewell (‘stop saying it’s a farewell, it’s only a goodbye,’ minhyuk whines), and takes off to Hoseok’s place.

 

 

For being one of Heaven’s most ethereal beings, Hoseok’s place sure doesn’t reflect it. Scrolls are cluttered on his desk, some probably dating to humanity’s first civilization. Stained coffee mugs fill the place, one that has Tokyo Mew Mew printed on it on the verge of falling. Kihyun saves it and takes one of the two seats that don’t have coats and different garments spread all over them.

Kihyun can’t help himself. “Hoseokkie, what the hell?” he takes in his hand a small baby overall in the color of peach.

Hoseok smiles over his folded hands. “Human trinkets. I like having them around.”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re a hoarder.” Now that Kihyun takes in the place properly, he catches a spatula resting behind the door, china teacups by the foot of wide tall shelves. They surround the room. Hoseok has a whole rack reserved for cooking books. And memoirs too. A lot of them.

“Do you miss your human life?” Kihyun finally asks, the baby cloth bunched up in his hands.

Hoseok drops his forearms to rest them on the desk. His eyes are the color of skies after violent storms, clear and hopeful, and if Kihyun focuses long enough, he would see the clouds and the accompanying birds passing through. His hair is dark, deeply so, a tip of ink on canvas. Slosh of watercolors are his tattoos, and unlike most of their Angels, his extend to his neck and jaw. They pulse and morph prettily.

 _They tell our stories_ , Hoseok had said once; _of pain, of joy, of heartbreak, they tell them all_.

His cupid bow curls in a soft smile. “Well, the only thing I knew in my human life was suffering. What was the morning sky through frail Hoseok’s mortal eyes? How did he cope with war and famine? Did his mother love him? What about his father? His friends? Did they suffer just as much? Did they deserve it? Did Hoseok deserve it?”

Kihyun tries not to look away, and Hoseok captures his eyes. He sees a bird, a tiny dot, circling Hoseok’s pupils.

“So to answer your question, no, I don’t miss those days. But I do like to indulge myself in human delicacies. I got Hyunwoo succulents the other day. He absolutely loved them.” He smiles wide.

Kihyun feels himself gulping. He puts the overall back in its place, amongst skirts and jeans and onesies. One has bunny ears. Hoseok is still looking at him.

“Hyung, why me? Why not stay working together? You’re so powerful together and you’re friends too, maybe more than that, I have no idea. I can always get assigned a different partner,” Kihyun says. He takes a cup and drums fingers on it. It has a frog, cute and wide-eyed; _‘_ morning _,_ ’ it says.

It’s silent for a while. When Kihyun looks up, he sees fogs from gloomy days. Hoseok takes his hand. “I’ve been feeling your doubts lately.”

Kihyun blinks. “Oh,” he says, face placid.  “I’m sorr-”

“Don’t apologize, Kihyunnie,” Hoseok cuts him off. “I’ve been bound to this place for a little over a thousand years, and I still get the same doubts. Why can’t I just rest? Didn’t I go through enough already? Why do I still have to witness human cruelty on a day to day basis?”

Hoseok twines their fingers. Kihyun’s tattoos immediately change in color, they beat stronger too. Kihyun feels a rush, feels wasps stinging his sternum, desperate to come out. He scratches at his neck, drags blunt nails over skin, again and again, until Hoseok takes both his hands.

“It’s okay to have those doubts. It took me a while to get over most of them, and by a while I mean hundreds of years.” His eyes clear again, his smile gleaming with sunshine.

Kihyun takes a deep, deep breath. He feels bricks weighting down his chest.

“We reunited a few years into my angel years, Hyunwoo and I. He was the same, same goofy smile, same dad jokes, well, except maybe for the wings and horns and tail, he was still the same.” Hoseok lets go of him. Kihyun’s arms flash light blue again.

“Hoseokkie, did he really-”

“Kill my abductors?”

Kihyun nods.

“He annihilated them,” Hoseok says. “I never knew human bodies could distort to that extent. They were unrecognizable. Charred flesh, chopped limbs. One of them had a missing eyeball, and I found it burning in the hearth.”

Kihyun’s wings ruffle in response to his nerves.

“Did I feel bad for them? Maybe.” Hoseok’s stare is cool. “Did I send them to Hell?” He doesn’t answer, just smiles and nods. It feels different.

“It wasn’t just me they tortured. There were dozens of us, locked tight in a basement that stunk of alcohol and piss. There was a pregnant woman, Kihyun. I’d rather not speak of what they did to her.”

Kihyun prefers it that way.

“So I wasn’t only acting on my personal feelings. They deserved to burn, and burning they did.”

Hoseok straightens in his seat. The sun is starting to set, hanging low by the horizon. The room glows in soft hues. “Hyunwoo is a gentle, gentle soul. He killed on my behalf, and I still feel guilty about it. Of course, I had no say in this whole mess, but it’s still unfortunate all the same.”

Kihyun sighs, tries not to cry. This is not the place for it. Maybe nowhere is. _You need to look after yourself, you need to take a breath._

Does it ever get better?

“Kihyunnie, look at me,” Hoseok commands him, and Kihyun complies. “Tell me what’s wrong, share some of your worries with me. Just a bit is fine. It’s really fine.”

Kihyun watches the mugs again, and the one with prints of jeweled-fruits holds his attention. Apples and grapes and cherries. So much pain. So much suffering.

Kihyun shakes his head. “Maybe another time,” he says, attempts a smile, and hopes Hoseok won’t urge him.

Hoseok presses his lips together, but nods in understanding. He reaches over his desk, touches forehead to his. Kihyun feels ice blocks threading through his skin tissue, and it’s what he needs for now.

“I figured Hyunwoo might come with some help. He’s a delight to have around, very just in his decisions. We’re the same age, but he might come off as grumpy sometimes, so look out for that.” Hoseok chuckles.

Kihyun tries to do them same, fails and catches himself from sobbing.

“Thank you Hoseokkie hyung,” he says, and leaves before he could hear an answer.

He crashes on his bed next, his wings unfurled and cluttered on the sheets, halo digging into his skull. It’s so heavy, everything is. He just wants to crawl and die, but he’s already dead, _what the fuck_ , this is such next level nightmarish crap.

He didn’t even get to live to his twenties, tortured and murdered in his own house because he happened to be something different.

His boyfriend at the time had just kissed him, caressed his face, whispered sweet lullabies to his ear: _you’re so beautiful, I’m so happy to have you Kihyunnie, love, I’m so so happy to have you-_

And the moment his boyfriend escaped from the window, there were gunshots, heavy footsteps approaching, loud cries from downstairs (his mom? his aunt?), splinter of a doorknob, gagged, blindfolded, and pain exploding in him, so much pain, too much pain,

_too much too much too much-_

Kihyun gasps through tears.

 

 

Here’s what Kihyun has learned so far:

a. Hyunwoo is indeed just in his decision-making.

b. His smell is on par with Sunmi’s in the way he has never encountered before (slightly muskier, slightly dizzier).

c. Hyunwoo is secretly an Angel in disguise because the way he smiles-

and laughs-

and the birds gather around-

and the Sun lingers in the sky a moment longer-

Flowers fragrance the air, they tilt in his direction whenever he passes, the trees ruffle in absence of winds. Soft touches of wheat fields against his shins. A wounded deer running to him. Hyunwoo touches her leg and she heals, galloping up, pleased with the gentleness of it all.

Kihyun doesn’t understand.

“So you’re saying you’re one of Hell’s leaders?”

“Was. I stepped down and let Taemin take my place.”

“And for how long you’ve been one?”

Hyunwoo halts and turns to him. His eyes are still the same fiery red, and the gold at the tip of his horns has breached through the dark, dark parts at the base. They shine like a set of diamonds.

“Couple hundred years, give or take,” he says, and smiles.

Kihyun nods. He tries not to flinch or pass out when Hyunwoo steps closer to him. Hyunwoo touches his face, traces with a thumb his cheek, once, twice. Kihyun’s breath hitches.

“Pretty,” Hyunwoo finally says. “Your eyes.”

“Oh,” Kihyun says, touches the same spot. Minhyuk had described them once as a bunch of cherries meeting in a bloodbath, magenta with blotches of red. Pretty is probably not the word for them. “Thank you.”

His cheeks tingle. Maybe he’s blushing, or maybe it’s just a sunburn.

(Angels do not get sunburnt)

“Let’s go,” Hyunwoo tells him, and they take off into the wide blue sky, his black wings ripping through air. Kihyun tries to keep up the pace, wipes at his cheeks to cool down.

His back is tanned and strong, rhomboid muscles shifting beneath smooth skin. He sees a hawk flying above them, and Hyunwoo waves at it before he dives through steep hills and abandoned buildings. Kihyun knows they’re usually concealed from the naked eye, but the way Hyunwoo flies makes him believe tornados will surge up and run rampant.

They land on the shed of a mansion. A child is dying. She’s eleven, maybe twelve.

“Ready?” Hyunwoo asks him.

Kihyun is not ready, but he nods anyway, and together they slip inside a window and walk to the source of the wails.

He should probably be used to this. Human cruelty has no boundaries, limitless, expanding in creativity still, and he has seen most of it, experienced it firsthand.

But children suffering is something he can never stomach, and as the child screams and trashes on her bed with blood-soaked plushies surrounding her, Hyunwoo keeps him from lashing at the man with the kitchen knife sawing her throat.

“Don’t intervene, Kihyun,” Hyunwoo says.

See, this is what Kihyun will never get. What’s the point of all of this if none of them are allowed to prevent further agony and torment of innocent individuals? Should they just keep watch until death chooses her moment? It’s bullshit.

Hyunwoo’s hand on his shoulder feels almost painful, tight and grounding.

The child stops moving, and her screams die down. Kihyun doesn’t hesitate to carry her soul in his arms and fly up to Heaven. She’s still crying, she’s still hurting, and Kihyun tries to sooth her pain, the same way Sunmi has done for him, the same way he’ll do for many, many more. The thought alone has him on the verge of weeping.

When he comes back, it’s night time, and he stands on Hyunwoo’s right by a pine tree, off a curved road.

A car is approaching.

Hyunwoo’s eyes seem like they’re bleeding, a red so sharp they glint in the darkness. Kihyun, in his flimsy sleeveless dress shirt, quivers, then remembers Angles shouldn’t feel cold.

Hyunwoo lifts a hand, snaps his fingers. The car swerves off the lane and comes crashing into the tree.

Kihyun gasps. “What-” but he cuts himself off when Hyunwoo grabs his waist and pulls him back. The car combusts, different compartments splinter off and burn on the asphalt. Panic kindles in Kihyun’s heart, zaps his veins, and he trembles against Hyunwoo.

Something crawls out of the car, a human maybe, Kihyun can’t tell, it’s too disfigured to distinguish head from limbs.

“What are you doing? We should help them,” Kihyun cries, struggles to escape. The arm around him would’ve crushed his ribs if he were anything but immortal.

Hyunwoo doesn’t say a word, neither lets him go.

“Hyung please, tell me what’s going on?”

“Look closely, Kihyun,” Hyunwoo finally says, and his voice drips with ice.

Kihyun stares at the mess of metal and flesh, and immediately recognizes him. It’s the asshole who murdered the child, bloodied face, a shard puncturing his eyeball, chunks missing from his skin, burning and rolling around in loud screams for help.

Hyunwoo releases him then, “Good work today, Kihyunnie. Meet you tomorrow?” he converts casually, gives him a smile too, nothing hostile behind it.

Kihyun nods, and tries his best to look composed. “Y-Yeah, I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

“Great,” Hyunwoo says, and his smile grows wide before he flies to the dying asshole, whose cries are increasing by the second. Hyunwoo must have revealed his true shape to him. A work of nightmares to ordinary eyes.

Kihyun leaves before the judgment is passed.

 

 

d. Hyunwoo is confusing.

 

 

“I don’t understand. One moment he’s Nature’s sweetheart, the next earth comes crashing at his feet.”

“He’s a Demon Kihyun, earth is supposed to crash at his feet,” Mihyunk says around a mouthful of raw honey. The bees circle his head in complete adoration. He nips at the comb with a spoon.

“He complimented my eyes. No one has ever complimented my eyes,” Kihyun says, sitting on a tree branch.

Minhyuk actually gasps. “He did?”

“Yes, why is your reaction so mean? My eyes are not that bad.”

“They seem like blood clots to me.”

“Fuck you.” Kihyun hops down the tree and punches Minhyuk’s arm. “Stop abusing your status and leave the bees alone.”

Minhyuk loses his grip on the spoon, and it falls to dirt and dead leaves. He hollers. “Noooo, I had to risk my head and steal it from Hoseok, you asshole!”

Kihyun grins, flashes Minhyuk a peace sign before he flies to start another work day with Hyunwoo.

These past weeks have been on the mellow side, and they only had to deliver souls of already deceased people. No similar incident of the other day has occurred. Kihyun hopes that’ll stay the case for many more to come.

He’s –conflicted.

Hyunwoo is still kind, animals still love, plants still inch his way, Kihyun is still dumbfounded at the softness his voice carries.

But he also won’t lie and say he has completely recovered from his blood-thirsty eyes and the ruthless way he’s carried the punishment.

_He annihilated them._

Kihyun does like to be around him, it’s like the universe expands at double speed, Sun and Venus and Proxima Centauri and the whole Solar System want to encroach on earth, just to get a closer glimpse of him, just to marvel at his glimmering horns and honey dipped skin, just to get a drizzle of blessing from his delicate long fingers, and Kihyun stands back, heart in throat, glamoured with jittery wings.

Hyunwoo snaps fingers: Thunders cease, crops flourish abundantly, earthquakes snuff out.

Hyunwoo snaps fingers: Chaos and disaster, car freaks, flames; consuming, destructing, earth has a fit, mortals crouch in consternation.

And Kihyun watches it all, because the guiltless are never the focus of Hyunwoo’s wrath, and when Hyunwoo snaps, it’s for good reason.

(homicide, fratricide, rapists, child abusers, the ugly ugly side of humanity)

(Kihyun might or might not be getting a twisted kind of pleasure from it)

They go from fifty to a hundred souls a day, and Kihyun is growing fast through ranks. Hoseok taps his shoulder, says, ‘Good job, you’re doing great Kihyunnie,’ and Kihyun wants to tell him that it’s not really his doing, it’s Hyunwoo, he’s doing most work, Kihyun is barely keeping up.

He merely mutters his thanks and joins Hyunwoo for another work day.

Kihyun is also starting to show his own unique Angelic smell, whatever that means.

(“You reek of chamomile tea, what the fuck?” Mihyunk sneers at him.

Kihyun, on his part, grins and claps him on the back.)

On their day off, Hyunwoo asks him to fly with him. When he’s relaxed, when he’s more likely to birth cats and will the plastic away from dying oceans, his eyes throb softly, the red emulating a burgundy color. Kihyun likes them this way best.

Hyunwoo smiles at him, takes his hand and pulls him along.

There’s no clear destination. They just fly and fly, with the sun at their backs and the winds sifting through their hair. Kihyun looks down and finds cows and sheep following them with gooey eyes. The fields are on the golden side. They tremble with the breeze and Kihyun feels something. Touches his chest, feels the erratic jabs of his heart against his palm.

His black wings soar high through the clouds, and it’s like he’s the source of light and the sun is merely a vessel, reflecting back like the moon.

Hyunwoo stops by a cemetery. “This is where I was buried,” he announces casually. “Though my bones must have already disintegrated to dust.” He actually laughs, and tilts his head at Kihyun.

Kihyun looks around. He finds clearings that stretch for miles and miles over the horizon. There’s no one around, this place is completely abandoned, and when he looks down, washed out stones stick out of fertile soil. The carving is barely readable, but he spots some letters and numerals. He touches them with a careful hand.

“Was Hoseokkie buried here, too?” he asks

“Hoseok’s body got completely incinerated. There was nothing left to bury,” Hyunwoo says softly, almost like a whisper. His face is relaxed, and he seems like he’s contemplating something in the far distance.

Kihyun opts for a subject change. “I thought we were never supposed to meddle with human lives, no matter how atrocious they are.”

Hyunwoo blinks. He flashes Kihyun one of his mischievous smiles, playful, cunning. “I know.”

Kihyun’s eyebrows do a quick lift. “So what you’re saying is that you’re fine with ignoring rules from the higher-ups.”

Hyunwoo shrugs. He lifts off the tree he was leaning on and approaches Kihyun in slow, steady steps. He’s in black thin attire, and his wide chest stays bare in a deep V.

He stands close to him. Too close maybe. Kihyun can feel his soft breathing; his lips are so plump, so perfect. The burgundy lights up a couple shades.

“Sometimes, taking matters into your own hands is the only way. Sometimes, for plants to grow, you got to weed out the bad ones so they could prosper. I’m merely doing the gardens a favor.”

Hyunwoo touches his cheek again, but this time, his warm (warm) hand travels up his temple and lands in his pastel hair, twists in the strands, rubs at the ones on his nape. Kihyun shivers and the white plumes flutter on his back.

“You’re cute,” Hyunwoo says finally. “I like the pink hair and the pink irises. A deliberate choice?”

“I got resurrected with them,” Kihyun says.

“Do you hate it?"

“The resurrecting part? Maybe.” Kihyun pauses, gathers his breath. “My pink features? They grew on me.”

Hyunwoo nods. He retreats his hand, and the warmth dissipates with it.

Only, this time, he takes Kihyun’s arm and runs a thumb over his tattoos. Kihyun gasps when his skin rises under Hyunwoo’s touch.

“What the –what’s that?”

Hyunwoo chuckles. “They’re goosebumps, Kihyunnie. Don’t worry, they’ll disappear in a minute, when I remove my hand, that is.”

But Hyunwoo doesn’t remove his hand. He looks closely at Kihyun’s arms, studies the shifting blue, and a frown distorts his face.

“You can read them?” Kihyun asks. The prospect of it scares him. He feels stripped bare suddenly, and he almost wrenches his arms back.

Hyunwoo gives him another curt nod. He lets him go at last. Kihyun fights down the urge to hug himself.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunwoo says, softly, voice low.

Kihyun shakes his head. “Don’t mention it, it happened a long time ago. How come you can read them? They just seem like pretty scribbles to me.”

“You’ll get to it once you breach your thousand years.”

“What if I don’t want to live to a thousand years?” Kihyun catches himself late, the forbidden words already out in the air. His eyes widen, and he physically feels an acidic burn crawling up his esophagus, gruesome filthy scarecrow wanting out.

Hyunwoo takes him in, watches him closely. His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, a frown so imperceptible mortal eyes would’ve missed it.

Kihyun feels the pricks of dropped temperature.

“You don’t mean it,” Hyunwoo says.  

Kihyun should’ve cowered – _what the fuck he’s doing that’s his senior_ – instead he steps to Hyunwoo’s face, and the heat around the skin of his eyes tells him they must have darkened in color.

“What if I do actually mean them? Would you stop me?” Kihyun says, his words slow and articulate.

Hyunwoo is momentarily taken aback, but it passes, and the scowl grows deeper. “There’s only void beyond this second life. There’s a reason we can’t easily destroy our bodies. There’s a reason we keep growing limbs back when they get cut.”

“There are alternatives.”

“Like what?”

“Angel blades.”

“Long disappeared.”

“Some can still be found in Hell.”

“I won’t let you,” Hyunwoo says with finality. “Even if I have to strap you down to the ninth circle of Hell, even if I have to crush your legs and cripple you a thousand times over, that will never happen under my watch.”

Hyunwoo is so close, eyes like freshly spilled blood, Kihyun can sense his dizzying fragrance like a punch with a club. The leaves shuffle above, and a sparrow perches on Kihyun’s halo, sing-songs in high pitched whines.

Kihyun takes a step back, his head low. Drops tickle his temples. His skin burns, and he feels like heaving suddenly, so he drops to his knees and clings to Hyunwoo’s headstone.

“I’m sorry, I don’t actually mean it. I really don’t. It’s just- it’s been hard lately, and the world has gotten murkier, and genuine people are starting to lose hope. So many of them have taken their lives, and the fact that we’ve been condemning them to Purgatory eats at me.” He takes a minute to breathe, his lungs are locking down.

He feels him falling to his own knees, and Kihyun tries not to flinch when darkness encloses him, soft and feathery, the sun disappearing and the bird taking flight and warmth soothing his hollowed chest.

“Most of them end up in Heaven, you don’t have to worry, Hoseok always makes sure of it, _I_ always make sure of it, I promise,” Hyunwoo says. He touches his hand first, then his face, and when he takes him in a warm embrace, Kihyun burns and cools down at once. His black wings shift closer around them. Kihyun feels the soft caresses, his own snowy plumes shrinking into his back.

“Why must things be so shitty? I thought that got buried with my body long ago,” Kihyun says, voice muffled into Hyunwoo’s chest.

Hyunwoo actually chuckles. It makes Kihyun instantly smile, too. “My stubborn shitty luck. I’d appreciate an efficient way to obliterate it.”

“I might have a trick or two,” Hyunwoo says.

“Teach me then, hyung.”

Hyunwo touches his hair again, and his fingers drum gently on Kihyun’s scalp. “I really love your hair. Sweet pink clouds, cotton candied mane.”

Gentle touches. Kihyun hums.

 

 

“Are you sure this is fine? We’re not on a mission.”

“Who said anything about this not being a mission?”

Kihyun pouts, slightly nauseous after the Shifting. He’s still not used to the process of suppressing wings and changing to a more ordinary color scheme from a human’s perspective.

Hyunwoo’s back seems so bare without the majestic dark wings, and Kihyun stares in awe when he smiles kindly at an old lady in a small crêpe stand, all charms as his warm brown eyes crinkle briefly in response to something she’s said.

It takes just a second for Kihyun to reflect on this: Hyunwoo seems like any other ordinary human, fits the part so well.

He looks down at his now tattoo-less arms, then ruffles his temporary dark hair. Whenever he passed by car windows, Kihyun would duke, refusing to look at his reflection. Something tells him he won’t like what he’ll see, and he would rather not find that out for himself.

Hyunwoo runs back to him. He places in his hand a crêpe roll stuffed with sweet fruits and ice cream.

“There, learned from Minhyuk that you have a sweet tooth.” He smiles again. His eyes seem like they’re glowing, seem to say only good things are promised in the foreseeable future, so it’s permissible for Kihyun to enjoy this short break in the mortal world.

He thanks him, bites into it, and the burst on his tongue has his eyes shut and a moan at the tip of his lips.

When he opens them, Hyunwoo is grinning with his own snack still untouched. “That was adorable.”

Kihyun blinks. “You keep calling me that, what’s your reasoning?”

Hyunwoo shrugs. “Good taste, maybe?”

Kihyun can’t help his own smile, and he feels it stretching his lips with something giddy blooming in his chest. “Minhyuk would beg to differ. He has proofs too, maybe too many, we’ve known each other for hundreds of years.”

Hyunwoo holds his gaze, and Kihyun doesn’t falter, doesn’t cut the eye contact. “Well, I might have just known you for a few months, but I still stand by my initial first impression. Pretty eyes, pretty face.” He pauses. The effect is instant, and the heat worms its way to Kihyun’s cheeks, but yielding he won’t do. Hyunwoo recognizes his impact, and smirks.

“I know a restaurant around the neighborhood, care to tag along?” Hyunwoo jabs him gently.

Kihyun doesn’t hesitate. “If you’re paying then, yeah, sure.”

Hyunwoo fishes something from his pocket and holds it up for Kihyun. Money, like, a lot of it.

“I hope those are not fake,” Kihyun says. He takes another bite of his warm crêpe, and actually hums this time.

Hyunwoo slings an arm around his shoulders, and they start walking under the bleary streetlights, mingling amidst the light crowd. “Stole some pennies from Hoseok. I’m almost certain he won’t notice. He collects a lot of junk, I seriously don’t get it.”

“What if he _does_ notice?”

“Then I’ll make it up for him somehow. Maybe get him a couple expensive trinkets from The Louvre. Do you think he’ll like them?”

Kihyun laughs, surprises himself when it rings in the semi-empty street. “You can’t just steal something that precious from humanity. Trust me, it won’t go unnoticed.”

Hyunwoo brings him closer, his warmth akin to chimneys in cold lonely nights. Kihyun missteps and trips on his feet, Hyunwoo barely catching him in time. Hyunwoo’s sent still gives him dizzy strikes, it’s kind of odd. He has never known the same with Changkyun, so Kihyun keeps attributing it to Hyunwoo’s high ranking.

They take a booth and sit facing each other. Kihyun skims over the menu, not exactly understanding what each name refers to, so he trusts the ordering part to Hyunwoo.

“You’ve been here often?” he asks. The sweetness still lingers on his gums, coats his stomach like cake icing.

“A couple times, when Hell gets stuffy and the kids boom from one circle to another and Hoseok keeps nagging me into buying him a parfait.”

Kihyun’s face crunches in a tight-lipped smile, his cheeks apple round. “Someone has it rough. I hope Changkyun isn’t giving you a hard time.”

Hyunwoo rests his head on his palm. He regards Kihyun with a clear twinkle in his irises, as if a star chose to splinter in their midst into micro dots that capture the stray lights.

Kihyun can’t help but gaze into them, subconsciously leaning closer.

“He’s the most obedient one, probably my favorite pupil. He talks a lot about you.”

Kihyun quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Hyunwoo nods. “Kihyun this, Kihyun that, you’d think it’s a crush, but he already has Jooheon.”

“And what would he say about me?”

“That you’re whiny sometimes, and the birds are so loud when you step in the Gardens, their melodies drifting to Heaven’s walls.”

“Well, I _am_ an Angel after all, the stereotypes must hold some truth to them. What else?”

Kihyun can tell he’s leaning too close to Hyunwoo, but he doesn’t make any efforts to straighten his posture.

Hyunwoo tilts his head, and says, “He would also mention your inclination to soothe souls of tormented humans, and that your feelings seep sometimes to those surrounding you. I still remember that time Changkyun came to me crying with no explanation he could afford. It was kind of amusing.”

Kihyun smiles. He dips his head, shakes it slightly. His dark hair strands flap over his face, and he feels light touches on his scalp. “Well, that’s another stereotype confirming to reality, I guess.”

The waiter brings in their orders, and they chat the evening away under the gentle glow of light bulbs and hazy distant murmurs of adjacent booths.

Kihyun scratches at his tingly arms where first peeks of light blue are starting to emerge. His back pricks him horribly, like a splash of boiling water melting off his skin.

Hyunwoo notices, and they soon leave the restaurant and take to the post-midnight streets where they shift back to their wings, tails, halos and horns.

“That felt soooo good,” Kihyun says, the night breeze cooling his skin, his feathers coming alive again. He feels the halo with his hands, touches his tattoos, and grins wide.

Hyunwoo laughs. “Is it that stifling to impersonate a human again?”

Kihyun nods seriously, which only makes Hyunwoo laugh harder.

Then, they fly together in the dark sky, weave through clouds and graze stars. Hyunwoo twirls around Kihyun a couple times in continuous loops, accidently stumbles into him at a certain point, and Kihyun laughs so hard he cries.

 

 

The waves feel cold against his skin, harsh crystallized drops, their push and pull lulling in any other circumstances. His knees sink into the sand, salty water drenching him to his midriff.

Kihyun shakes and shakes, brings his hand to his pale face, and shakes against the dozen stabbing knifes twisting deep in his intestines, his chest, his throat. Mangled mess, the ocean colors with his blood.

_Sneering stepfather._

And screams, everywhere, nowhere, they’re deafening, Kihyun puts hands over his ears, but they only seem to get louder, the source being him, in him. Kihyun wants it to stop so bad, wants an Angel blade in his hold for an act of instant relief to the void.

Wants it to stop in whatever way, it’s so horrid this time he doubles over and coughs blood, litters and litters of it.

_Soaked through mattress._

“Kihyunnie, hey.”

A warm hand rubs his back, before an arm sneaks around his waist to keep him up, but Kihyun wouldn’t mind sinking into the waves and letting them transport him to the deepest parts of the ocean. He coughs again, and a gurgled whine surges through his bitten raw lips. “It won’t stop it won’t stop, it hurts so bad, it hurts it hurts-”

It’s one of those dreadful nights, everything is rushing through like a freshly cut knee, and the blood buds are blooming into endless streams. Kihyun is gasping for breath, needs to stay up, he’s dizzy and if he closes his eyes he’ll die, and he can’t die yet, the Afterlife is so scary, he doesn’t care to know what awaits him there, it’s terrifying, he’s still eighteen, and they’re still stabbing him, his flesh taking the blows with ease, a ripened fruit.

A twist to his heart. Explosion of pain.

“ _Oh fuck oh fuck_ ,”

“Let me help you Kihyunnie, please,”

He can’t pinpoint the source of the voice, it’s far, too far maybe, a couple mountains away, the harsh rain diluting the pitch, the words barely reaching him.

He’s so, so tired.

“Kihyunnie,” the word feels warm silk to his eardrums. Something presses to his forehead. His wings flutter erratically on his back, beat against the waves and splash water everywhere. They’re distressed, and it feels like they’re about to rip off Kihyun’s back to be their own separate entity.

More words are whispered by his ear. Kihyun finally, finally finds that cooling warmth again.

 

 

He disappears for a few weeks.

Angels do not get sick, but it feels exactly like that.

He looks exactly like it too: his skin bleached a sickly white, his throat burning as if he just caught the flu, his eyes tearing ceaselessly, they could fill a bucket teetering to leek on the hardwood.

Kihyun sleeps continuous hours of the day, sleeps a whole week and wakes to Minhyuk’s snoring to his right (his beautiful bastard of a friend had sneaked through the covers, it feels cozy and Kihyun turns and cuddles to his chest), refuses to taste maple syrup or cotton candy or put anything sweet on his tongue, dreams about upset tides and mourning crows aligning by the window sill. Deer and stags weep by his door, and Kihyun wants to sooth their worries and tell them that he’s okay, he’s doing okay.

The bruises are still here-

The aching is still here-

But nothing like the other night, so he’s really okay.

A bird keeps snagging bread crumbs and bringing it to his nightstand.

 _Eat_ , the bird says, _eat and live, don’t go, don’t go_ , before the bird flies off again to search for more crumbs.

It fills Kihyun’s heart with so much warmth, has him sometimes gulping down food in front of the bird just to give it some kind of comfort – _I’m not going anywhere_ – and the bird sings hymns again, ones that reach the Gardens and Heaven’s doors and the souls resting in them.

His tattoos are no longer blue. They pulse in mahogany, the shape of them different from usual, and when Kihyun touches them, they burn his fingertips, seep through the blood stream and take shelter under his ribcage.

Warmth, so much of it, like the gentle caresses of sunrises and sunsets, like an affectionate kiss to the center of his forehead, tender and loving, and Kihyun remembers him, remembers his comforting touches and his comforting words and the pain that melted away to leave intense relief behind, like scented candles in dimly lit bathtubs washing away the dirt and grime in rosemary waters.

Kihyun breathes deep, deep, brings a hand to his newly carved neck tattoo, feels the sparks, and closes his eyes.

He opens them, he finds him.

The dark wings are enormous, and they fill the room, make the space seem smaller. The woods crackle by the fireplace, the twigs buckling in half, holding the flames.

Kihyun stares at him. He looks the same, smells the same (less dizzying maybe), his face relaxed, his tails clinging to his leg. His neck is not the same, and Kihyun has had his suspicions for a while.

Hyunwoo has the same pretty scribbles across his throat.

“You’ve marked me,” Kihyun says, more like a statement to the world and the Afterlife, more like a confirmation to himself.

He feels strangely calm about it, considering the weight of Hyunwoo’s decision, considering its inclinations, the importance it holds.

Hyunwoo keeps his face neutral, his back to the door and arms crossed to his chest.

“You’ve marked me,” Kihyun says again. He touches his neck, and this time feels the heat ten folds stronger and hisses his hand away.

Angels and Demons, when partnered, and the bond exceeds the norm, can mark each other as sign of Eternal Partners in the Afterlife. Kihyun knows of a few pairs (Jooheon and Changkyun; Sunmi and Seulgi), but the idea has never crossed his mind before, most his past partners being stereotypical Demon trashcans.

Kihyun has never thought of having an eternal partner.

(his episodes are too frequent, and he can’t imagine anyone sharing that kind of pain with him, that kind of insurmountable hell that has his skin sizzling over a heated pan, that kind of deep planted misery that oozes from him like worms from infected wounds)

But now, but now-

He’s inconveniencing someone else

He’s inconveniencing Hell's former leader

But most of all, he’s inconveniencing Hyunwoo, the one who threw his life away for his friend, the one who would’ve probably been an Angel if only life had shown him an ounce of kindness.

Kihyun cries silently. “Why did you do it? You can’t just decide this for yourself, this isn’t you alone, it doesn’t concern you alone, why did you do it? Why?”

Hyunwoo finally comes to his side, and Kihyun feels him instantly, feels the new chain linking them together, hears the gentle apologies;

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you were hurting too much_

_I had to do something, I couldn’t let you go through it alone, I’m sorry_

_Kihyunnie please_

Hyunwoo takes him in his arms. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

Kihyun feels his soothing tone chipping the ache away in dusty cracks. He allows himself to sob softly into Hyunwoo’s chest.

 

 

“He did _what_?” Minhyuk screeches into the night.

Some wolves howl back in response and Minhyuk shushes them.

“Hey, be kind to the animals,” Kihyun scolds him lightly, perched up on the peak of a birch tree. Minhyuk is mirroring him, his heart shaped wings unfolded for the sake of levitation. His eyes are wide, seeming like they’re about to pop out of their sockets.

Kihyun, for his part, takes in the night breeze and the light drizzle, sticks his tongue out to catch some droplets. He hasn’t been out in a little while. He missed the smell of earth after rains.

Mihyunk is about to lose his mind. “Why are you not freaking out? What the fuck Kihyun? This is serious.”

“I’ve done enough freaking out already and I deserve a break.”

“But still, marking you? And Without your consent?” Minhyuk’s voice squeaks. “You must be shitting me! I’m calling the Afterlife cops.”

Kihyun sighs. “He did it for my sake.”

“That still doesn’t give him the right to it, breaking bonds is not a trip to the park, it’s a whole fucking process that is painful ninety percent of the time,” Minhyuk spits in rage.

“But I don’t want to break this bond,” Kihyun says wholeheartedly. “I genuinely don’t mind anymore, Minhyukkie. He already apologized, and he even offered to end it, but I refused.”

Minhyuk’s features relax to something apprehensive. Kihyun almost looks away. “Kihyunnie, are you really sure about this?"

Kihyun answers, “Yes,” without hesitation, and then, with a bit of reluctance, “I might also–be in love with-with him.”

Minhyuk, in his shock, forgets how to fly and drops to the ground. He whines in pain and the wolves howl again.

 

 

Things slide so much smoothly than Kihyun thought, like ships sailing on peaceful oceans, like an Artist with the perfect muse post the ever-dreadful art block that had his gifted fingers numb and jagged from burnouts.

It’s like they’re the same entity, and then not, and Kihyun marvels still at the gentle croon of his voice (there’s so much care in his words), feels their wings syncing in flight and their heartbeats pulsing as one, lakes pooling warmth at their feet, the same hurt deer of before getting relief under Kihyun’s healing hand.

Hyunwoo snaps sometimes at the unfair dealings of Fate, and Kihyun feels the tremors like violent earthquakes shaking his very being and, sometimes, the sky along.

Kihyun can tell when it’s one of those days, when the world gets unbearably wretched and the stinking smell of Sin has him retching by the side road near a green house, the only solace being the plants humming good wills and a redeemable hope for humanity.

Hyunwoo disappears on those days, and Kihyun doesn’t try to follow, doesn’t care to see him wrecking some deserved havoc upon earth.

But also, albeit a small number in comparison, good days do occur too.

When a Grandma of six gets to finally rest surrounded by the profound love of her children and grandchildren, or when a suffering child in the cancer ward closes their eyes a final time, and the pain is no more, and suffering they get to leave behind.

Kihyun finds beauty in it, finds beauty in the _goodbyes_ and the _one days_ and the whole feelings haze that washes over him in cotton clouds.

“You’re such an _Angle_ ,” Hyunwoo says, smiling.

Kihyun chuckles. “Should I take it as an insult?”

“Well,” Hyunwoo says, pulls his pink hair back. The link hums. “I’d say the opposite, but I do get concerned about your limits, sometimes, and mines too, if I’m to be a little honest.”

Kihyun quirks his eyebrows, and drowns in the deep red sea. “What? Allergic to emotions? They don’t kill, or bite for that matter.”

Hyunwoo nuzzles his cheek, a kitten, and the heat seeps through Kihyun’s skin like soothing home medicine.

 

 

In the center of large wheat fields, under afternoon suns and clear skies, Kihyun naps for a couple hours, his head resting atop folded arms, the gentle winds feeling more like caresses and shy kisses.

Kihyun isn’t thinking about anything (a miracle he managed to master), and he focuses instead on flora and fauna, the essence of life itself, the thing that gives it the worth of its troubles.

Kihyun almost yelps when fluffy mushroom bunnies jump on his chest and swarm his face with painless nips.

“There there,” he coos. He props himself up and lifts a bunny to his face. The other three hop around in clear jealousy until Kihyun decides to lift all four of them and shower them with equal amount of kisses.

A certain someone pops up in Kihyun’s mind.

“I see you’ve made friends with Hoseok’s siblings,” booms a voice from above. The force of his wings rattles the fields for a moment, and the bunnies quiver lightly in Kihyun’s arms. Hyunwoo settles to his right. Kihyun passes him gently two fluff balls.

“Careful, he might hear you,” Kihyun says, but also, smiles wide, leans on Hyunwoo’s shoulder. His neck throbs, throbs, Hyunwoo is so close, _feels so right_.

“This one is Seo,” Hyunwoo lifts one bunny, “and this one is Kkie. Together they’re SoeKkie.” He grins.

“Oh my God.”

“Genius, right?”

Kihyun just shakes his head, endeared and heart cement thick. The bunnies hop down his arms to rest on his thighs. Hyunwoo lets go of Seo and Kkie ( _oh my God, stop calling them that_ ) to wrap an arm around Kihyun’s shoulders.

The sun rests by the horizon, and Kihyun leans his head all the way back and closes his eyes to breathe deeply, fully, drink in the last of the rays and glimpses the fading golden fields, the color seeming to have seeped into Hyunwoo’s horns. Kihyun can no longer see the dark side of them. They shine so bright, so beautiful, Hyunwoo is so beautiful.

“It’s kind of unfair,” Kihyun says.

“What is?” Hyunwoo asks.

Kihyun ponders for a moment. “Life, death, the universe, the fact that you haven’t kissed me yet. Everything.”

“Everything,” Hyunwoo repeats.

“Yeah, everything.”

Hyunwoo leans down and kisses him. The fields disappear when Hyunwoo’s dark wings engulf them both, and Kihyun kisses up into Hyunwoo’s soft, honey dipped lips, kisses him deep and slow, tastes maple syrup and cotton candy again. Dizziness hits different this time, he’s more delirious, more fever struck, and when he slips a hand to Hyunwoo’s nape, and his fingers graze the pulsing tattoo, something euphoric branches up from beneath his ribcage and spreads wide and fast, hits in all the right ways, he gasps free for air and the heat scalds his arms and throat, burns his skin until it soothes down to steady hums.

Kihyun doesn’t relent, presses his lips to Hyunwoo’s again, captures them long long, fits them perfectly together, they’re so soft, and Kihyun keeps kissing him, again and again, through the heat and the thorns and the ache in his bones .

Hyunwoo’s hand twists hazardously in his pink hair, slips to his nape and teases the strands.

“Not fair,” Kihyun whispers into his mouth. “Not fair, not fair.”

“Kihyunnie,” Hyunwoo says, “I love you Kihyunnie.”

“Not fucking fair.”

Kihyun steals another kiss.

 

(and then another)

 

(and another)

 

.

.

.

 

_( "Tell me what they say. Tell me what they mean."_

_"I don’t want to ruin it for you, I want you to get the chance to read them on your own."_

_"Six hundred years is still far, please, just a sentence, or maybe two. Hyunwoo, please."_

_Gleaming smile and caramel apple skin._

_Sweet pink clouds. Tender kisses._

_"Well, about that–" )_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> me: *writes my first showki*  
> me: let's make it painful
> 
> (sorry ♡)


End file.
